Rapture's Gold

by Rosanne Bittner

  Why did she have to be so confused and stubborn? She carried that barrier of fear like a shield. She was so afraid to love and trust. If only she could bring herself to do those two things, she’d be perfect. But he could see that Harmony Jones would always be haunted by the day her parents abandoned her on the docks of St. Louis. That terrible experience would always undermine her ability to trust. And then there was that bastard Jimmie. He’d scared her to death, made her think all men wanted only one thing from a woman. The memory of his attack made her think Buck had deliberately tricked her.

  But he hadn’t. He would never trick her. He loved her, and he’d go back and make her understand that. Maybe it was good that he’d been gone so long. It was early December, over three months since he’d left her. Still, he wondered if she was all right. He was almost crazy with curiosity, yet his hurt and pride told him to stay away as long as possible. She must miss him, long for him. She must have plenty of time to calm down, to think, to realize she really did love Buck Hanner. He could only hope that when he did get back to her she would have decided she loved and wanted him, for he doubted he could leave a third time or face her denial again.

  He could not move from camp to camp as quickly now. The weather did not allow it. Sometimes he was held up for days by a blizzard. Then it would get so warm he’d ride through the drifts with only his shirt on, actually sweating from the warm sun, yet trudging through deep, dangerous snows. Everything took longer, for the mountains were full of danger at this time of year. Every step Indian took had to be carefully gauged, for snow often covered crevices and boulders that could send horse and rider tumbling to their deaths. There was also the danger of avalanches. He only hoped Harmony had sense enough not to stray too far from the cabin in this weather. At least during these months there was little to fear from bears. They were hibernating. But other animals would be tempted to come close to the cabin in search of food, if the snow got too deep to find it elsewhere. He was glad there were no horses at the cabin, for they would attract wolves. And although she’d made a near pet out of a coyote, she’d have to be careful of that too. Amber might bring several friends at this time of year, all of them hoping for a handout, and she could not afford to hand out too much.

  Harmony. Always his thoughts returned to Harmony. How could they not? What would he do if he returned to find her dead? And how would he handle himself if she still hated him? He hadn’t meant to hurt her, either physically or emotionally. Yet he’d done both and he hated himself for it. She was so precious, so delicate. He had not intended things to happen the way they did. He was going to win her over, then ask her to marry him, then make her his woman. It had happened all backward. His urgent need of her, his intense love for her, had made him move too quickly, but he loved her just the same. Marriage didn’t matter; the lack of it didn’t take away any of his respect for her. He already felt that she was his wife, and if she loved and wanted him when he returned, he’d marry her just as soon as they got back down the mountain. He had always intended to marry her, anyway. Perhaps the horse had come before the cart, but who knew, and what did it really matter when two people really loved and needed each other? In his own heart he had already married her, already devoted himself to her. He loved her as much as any man loved a wife. Actually making her his wife was a simple legal matter. The important thing was that she belonged to Buck Hanner, body and soul, and hopefully her heart also belonged to him. That was the only part he doubted. In the meantime, no one need know what happened. Out in this wild land a lot of things happened backward. People married for the craziest reasons, or they didn’t marry at all. This wasn’t St. Louis. This was Colorado, much of it still wild and untamed although it was now a state. Breaking social codes was a common occurrence. But his intentions were good and he’d do right by her, for he loved her dearly. That was all that mattered.

  He headed Indian and the mules into the camp of Hank Fisher, a prospector who’d used dynamite the past summer to blast into the side of the mountain where his claim lay. Fisher was searching for a mother lode, but so far he’d done nothing more than bore a cave big enough to work with a pick. Although he spent as much time there as in his little cabin, he’d still not found the vein, but he would not give up. Fisher had been here for longer than Buck had been delivering supplies. Buck could not imagine how the man stood the loneliness. He couldn’t understand what kept these men going, where they got their constant hope, or why making a strike was so important to them.

  “Hank!” he called out. “It’s Buck Hanner!”

  For several minutes there was only the sound of the winter wind, which was cold again today. Buck wore a heavy jacket, yet just the day before he’d worn only a shirt. Fisher finally appeared at the entrance of the mine, waving to Buck. The man had aged since Buck had known him, but he ran toward Buck now, apparently happy as hell to see another human being.

  “What do you know, Hanner? Did you bring me some old newspapers?”

  “Sure did. I wouldn’t forget that, Hank.”

  When Fisher laughed, he looked far older than his forty years and a distant longing appeared in his eyes. Buck had seen it before. Men came out here and changed, searching forever, never going back home, some going a little crazy. Hank sometimes had that crazy look in his eyes.

  “Come on in, Buck! I’ve got the cabin warm! Come and set a spell. I’ve got somethin’ to tell you.”

  “You got a list of needs?” Buck asked. “I really can’t stay long, Hank. I get slowed down this time of year.”

  “I know. I know.” The man led him inside and brought out a bottle of whiskey. “Now this is what I need most,” he said with a chuckle. He poured two drinks and sat down. “I’m close, Buck. I can feel it. I’m close to the mother lode, and soon I’ll be comin’ down off this mountain a rich man.”

  Buck nodded, sipping some whiskey. “I hope you’re right this time, Hank.” How many times had he heard that statement, not just from Hank, but from others? And how badly did Harmony want the same riches? Perhaps she would stubbornly refuse to come with him, would insist on staying and working her claim. Perhaps she would turn into an old-looking woman before her time, be always searching for something that was not there, become a crazy woman. She seemed to have gold fever almost as bad as most of the men who came up here, but her reasons made more sense than those of most of the men.

  “I know I’m right.” Fisher took a long drink of whiskey, then set his glass down and wiped at his lips. “Tobacco. Tobacco and whiskey, and some canned beans and jerky. You got them things?”

  “Always do.”

  “I could use a new axe too.” The man sniffed and poured himself some more whiskey. “I got to tell you to be careful Buck. Some men was here, ornery lookin’ sons of bitches. I think they had in mind to do me in and jump my claim, figured this time of year nobody would come around for a long time and they’d make up some kind of story about what happened to me. But I was onto them quick, and I holed up in here with my rifle. I told them to move on or I’d open their innards to the winter winds.”

  Buck frowned. Harmony’s camp was only a three-day ride from Hank’s claim. He’d been saving her for last on this trip so he could stay longer. “How many?” he asked, “Which way did they head?”

  Hank rubbed his whiskered chin. “That’s why I thought I’d warn you. They headed around the west ridge, far as I could tell. You done told me about that nice little gal around that way you had a hankerin’ for. I’ve been hopin’ that turned out okay for you, Buck; wasn’t even sure she was still over there. It was too far for me to try to get to her at this time of year, without a horse or anything. There was four of ’em. Bad-lookin’ sort, you know? You’d best go check on that girl next, if she’s still there.”

  Buck quickly swallowed his whiskey. “I’ll get your supplies right away,” he told the man. “I’d stay, Hank, but Harmony is still up there.” His heart raced with fear for her. “You think they’re just riding the hills looking for easy jump
s?”

  Hank nodded. “That’s what I think. And there wouldn’t be nothin’ easier than takin’ somethin’ from a little girl, let alone what they’d do with her, bein’ all alone up here and all. They didn’t look like the considerate sort.”

  Buck moved fast then, hurrying out to get the supplies and leaving them on the ground. Hank followed him out.

  “I’m sorry, Hank, but I can’t stay and visit this time.”

  “I understand, Buck. You want me to go along?”

  “No. I can handle it. But I can move faster without the mules. I’m leaving them here. Can you watch over them for a few days? I know there isn’t much around here for them to eat—I usually keep them moving, so there’s always something—but they’ll probably do okay for a week or so. I’ve got to get to Harmony as fast as I can! I’ll come back in a few days for the mules. She’ll need the supplies.” He mounted up. “If she’s still alive,” he added quietly.

  “Sure, Buck, I’ll take care of them.”

  “How long ago were they here?”

  Hank scratched his head. “About two days ago, I guess. I’m glad you came through when you did.”

  “Well, I know exactly where I’m going, and they’ll be riding slower just hunting around. If I’m lucky I’ll get to Harmony before they do. I don’t intend to stop to rest or make camp.”

  Hank nodded. “Good luck, Buck. I’ll be waitin’ for you to come back.”

  Buck nodded and rode off, praying nothing would happen to Harmony. If the claim jumpers harmed her, there would be hell to pay!

  Chapter Thirteen

  Harmony sifted through a pan of drag, so lost in her work she was oblivious to the new but very quiet sounds around her. These last few weeks had been especially hard, for some days the snow had been so deep she was unable to go beyond the creek right outside her door. Even Amber hadn’t shown up for a long time, and she wondered if he was still alive. Worse than that, did anyone care whether she was alive? She had always thought she knew what loneliness was, but this was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The only thing that kept her going was working long hours, in spite of the cold. The snow would come in huge amounts, then disappear in two or three days, but a lot of it was beginning to stay on the ground, making everything seem even lonelier, for it muffled sound. There were no birds about, and seemingly there was no movement anywhere.

  She had heard stories of prospectors going crazy, and she was beginning to understand how it could happen. She had looked forward to being alone, but human nature demanded some companionship, someone to talk to. Now all she had were a few rats, and even they did not make daily appearances. It would all be so much more bearable if she could get Buck Hanner out of her mind, and out of her blood. But the memory of him would not leave her, especially the memory of his lips on her own, of his gentle hands claiming her body. Even the memory of the pain he had left behind seemed beautiful now. She had given herself to a man, then turned him away. What if that man never came back?

  She blinked back tears and kept working. It did no good to dwell on what had happened. Buck was gone and that was that. He’d been gone three months, and it would be better for her if he didn’t show up again. Yet a searing pain in her chest told her she didn’t want to go on living if he didn’t. The thought of seeing him brought a rush of warmth and anticipation. What would she say? What would he say? She would surely die of embarrassment, realizing he’d seen her, touched her, been intimate with her. Would he be embarrassed too? After all, she’d seen and touched him. But then, a man like Buck wouldn’t be embarrassed. She felt a terrible rush of jealousy at the thought of other women in his life. Had he turned to the whores of Cripple Creek for what she had refused to give him after their one night of lovemaking?

  Buck. Her every thought was of him. Every part of her tingled for him. But she had driven him away, and she must now work this claim and make her little fortune. She most certainly had no one, and wanted no one except Buck Hanner.

  A soft wind moaned through the pines, and the snow shrouded the sounds of quietly approaching horses. All she heard was the rushing of the creek, and the wind, until suddenly a rope came over her head and around her arms. She gasped, then screamed as the rope tightened hard and she was yanked away from the sluice, falling to the ground with the force of the tug.

  Her mind raced as she rolled in the snow, then struggled to get up, her arms pinned to her sides, laughter echoing in the background. What was happening!

  “Got lots of gold there, do ya, little girl?” It was a man’s voice.

  She coughed and got to her feet, shaking snow from her long hair, which hung loose this day. She blinked and raised her eyes, looking at the three men who stared back at her, all with several days’ growth of whiskers. Two of them looked to be about thirty; one seemed younger. The younger one was slender and filthy, and some of his teeth were missing. The other two were not ugly, nor were they handsome. They were a little cleaner looking than the younger one, but all three wore soiled buckskin jackets.

  They leered at her, their expressions ugly, and her heart pounded with fear and dread. Buck! If only he were here now! Had he betrayed her? Had he sent them?

  “Well, now ain’t she about the best-lookin’ thing in these parts?” The voice came from behind her.

  She turned to look at the man who held the rope that had trapped her. He was huge, wide and very fat. His teeth were yellowed, and he wore a buckskin jacket and a coon hat.

  “She’s a young one,” one of the others put in. “Maybe even untouched.”

  The fat one grinned. “Yeah.” He leaned toward her. “Where’s your pa, blondie?”

  She blinked, the horror she’d experienced on the docks flashing through her mind, then Jimmie’s ugly treatment. She was wiser now. These men had one thing in mind, and it wouldn’t be like being with Buck Hanner, that was sure. The thought of them touching her brought a sick feeling to her stomach, and horror to her heart.

  “I…he…he’ll be back soon!” she stammered, taking deep breaths and telling herself to be bold and sure. Perhaps they’d leave without bothering her.

  “No, he won’t,” the young one spoke up, eying her up and down. “We heard tell there was a young girl up here, workin’ her claim…alone. Might you be the one, missy?”

  She eyed her rifle, but it was too far away and her arms were pinned. “No. I…I’m not—”

  Before she finished the fat one jerked her closer to his horse and yanked off her hat. He grunted out a laugh, then fingered her golden hair.

  “Boys, we found more than gold nuggets here. We found a golden girl!”

  They all laughed as the fat man dismounted. He walked around in front of her, towering over her. Her heart screamed for Buck, for help. But there was no one to help her, and now the other three were dismounting.

  “Let’s take her inside, Frank,” one of the others said to the fat one.

  Frank loosened the rope, then backhanded her hard and shoved her to the ground. “We will,” he answered, plunking his incredible weight on top of her thighs so that she could not budge or kick. “But let’s get a look at the goods right here and now.”

  Sheer terror enveloped her as he began to unbutton her coat, and she scratched out at him, only to have someone else grasp her wrists. The fat one threw open her coat, then ripped open her shirt. She wore no undergarment, finding little necessity for one up here all alone in the mountains. Why be uncomfortable when there was no one around to see or care?

  Now someone touched her breasts in that ugly way again. She heard screams, horrible, gut-wrenching pleas. Was it her voice? The only reply was laughter. Someone was dragging her then, and she felt the weight lift from her thighs. Her head still spun from the hard blow to the side of her head, and every part of her screamed for death rather than what they had in mind for her. But she was aware of their laughter, ugly words, and talk of doing her in later and taking her gold. She began fighting then. She’d not let this happen! Not Harmony Jo
nes! She screamed and kicked. No one would take her by force, and no one would take her gold! It was her gold! Hers!

  But one of them struck her hard. There were too many…they were too strong! She felt herself being shoved up the steps toward the cabin door. Then came the gunshot.

  In the crisp winter air it rang out extra loud, and they all jumped, even Harmony.

  “Jesus Christ!” someone yelled. “Clyde’s been hit!”

  Someone tumbled past her, down the steps. Then came another gunshot, and the fat one clumped down beside her on the steps, groaning and cursing.

  “Run, Harmony!” she heard someone yell. Buck? Was that Buck’s voice? Everything was confused, unclear, as though she were dreaming all of it. But somehow her legs moved and she obeyed the command. “Away from the cabin!” came the voice. “Don’t let them get you inside!”

  “Circle around, Hugh, and get that bastard!” she heard someone say.

  “Buck!” she squeaked, deliberately rolling off the side of the steps and scrambling under them. She threw snow onto her face and shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. If Buck was out there she had to help him. Quickly she buttoned her shirt and the jacket, while all around there were gunshots. Buck! They were firing back at him!

  Through the openings between the steps she could see the huge body of the one called Frank. He wasn’t moving. She crawled around to the side, and saw another man lying at the bottom of the steps, blood staining the snow around his head.

  She scanned the surrounding woods, but could see nothing. “Buck!” she screamed. “Buck, is it you?”